"Well, look who decided to show up. Do you have the remaining white oak?" His voice was the first thing that greeted her when she stepped into the now familiar house.
"Klaus, I - I didn't know what they were planning to do." She felt a sense of deja vu, the frustration of the same doubts, the same conversations killing her at this point.
He sighed at her words, and she took a good look at him, shoulders tense and an expression of anger in his eyes, even though he masked it well with the glass of scotch.
"Drink?" He asked and she shook her head. "Well, let's go in, talk there."She fell into step beside him, passing by a room that was being cleaned.
She caught him looking at her, as though gauging her reaction to the torture chamber he had employed for her friend.
The air between them was thick, neither sure what to say to the other, the events of the day weighing them down. They were in the same study they had been in all those weeks ago, when she had first come to see him, when she had seen his painting for the first time, the time when she had begun to see the cracks in his hard exterior.
She walked over to the couch, as he took the same seat as that night, across from her, his blue eyes storming in controlled rage even as hints of desire were pooled in his eyes.
Ever since New York, things had been tense between them, their arguments and lies cutting a rift in their already fragile relationship.
"Did you know?" His words pierced the air like a sword, and she felt like shrinking into the cushions as his eyes bore into her, as though he wanted to will the truth out of her.
"I….yes but, I didn't know everything. I knew they had the stakes, but I thought I had convinced them to not use them. Did you know? That Rebekah would take Damon?"
"No, she didn't tell me anything."
"Okay." She settled further into the couch, pulling her feet up, a strange ache in them as he frowned.
"There's dirt on your clothes."
"I was at the cemetery."
"Oh." She wondered what else he could say to something like that. It was the same cemetery where Isobel had set herself on fire in front of her, the same one where John was buried.
"Why didn't you tell me? About the white oak?" He asked her slowly, deliberately, in the way he usually did, like he'd snap at any moment at her answer. But maybe, she thought, it was just because he was afraid of the answer she'd give.
"I don't know." She answered honestly, "I was so glad that there was finally a balance, a sort of peaceful coexistence, even if it was there for a week that I didn't want to ruin it, especially when I thought I could handle it myself."
He didn't answer her for a while, the silence stretching between them as her heart raced. She was sure he could hear it, in a way she just knew he was attuned to her.
"I could've died." She could hear the words he didn't say, the ones that seemed to be hanging between them - and you didn't care. While she was glad he didn't say them aloud, it didn't do anything to relieve the sudden ache in her chest.
"I know, but I didn't think they'd do it and I wanted to avoid any more bloodshed."
"And the easiest way to do that would be to simply not tell me." She bit her lip, shrugging her shoulder as he let out a sigh.
"It's just that I…." she trailed off, the words weighing heavily in her throat as she contemplated saying them out loud.
"What?" he asked after a moment of silence, and she felt herself beginning to try and explain her feelings, stumbling over a few words before she found ones she wanted to say.
"I've spent so much time trying to kill you, and yet, here we are, with the perfect weapon, and…" she trailed off, not sure how to say the words. There wasn't hostility between them, not yet, but the disappointment was clearly in the air.
"And?" She took a breathe because despite all her actions, it was a difficult thing to say, to be so vulnerable in front of a person who had hurt her as much as he had.
"I've told you before. I care about you, and the thought of something happening to you-" she tried not to focus too much on the hitch in her voice, hoping he'd avoid it too. But she knew he wouldn't, no, instead, he would catalogue every reaction she had, every word she said, only this time, she hoped he wouldn't use it against her. "I can't bear it."
And then it was her, she was the one cataloging his reactions, the way his eyes cleared, how his shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly, the way his lips parted in a quick inhale, and she knew that she had gotten under his skin just as much as he had gotten under hers.
And then suddenly he was next to her, only her experience with vampires stopped her from gasping.
A sigh escaped her when his hand reached out to tuck some loose hair behind her ear, his thumb stroking her cheek as he did it.
She allowed herself to feel the heat of his skin, to be surrounded by his smell for a moment, for several moments longer than she should have, before her hand came up to his wrist, pulling it away from her skin. She felt as though she was being hurt physically, and instead focused on their hands in her lap, her small palm still enclosed around his wrist.
"Can I ask you something now?" The question had been swirling in her head for a while, something she wasn't planning to ask him, but their conversation made her change her mind.
"Alright."
"Why were you behaving so differently in New York? It was like an experience of whiplash."
"How was I behaving? Was it the killing? You know I've killed far more for far lesser." She knew, had always known that his words were true. She wished he wasn't covered in the blood of his victims, wished it didn't make her feel as though she was covered in the blood of his victims.
But then again, she was also covered in the blood of her own victims.
"That's true. But it's not just that, there was something different about you. Something almost-"
"Cruel? Psychotic? Because I hate to break it you love-"
"Almost like you were putting on a show. I know that you are-can be ruthless, but there was something almost purposeful about it. Like you wanted to show how evil you are, like it was something you wanted them to know."
"You don't know Lucien, or Tristan for that matter. There is no place for weakness, or humanity, as you call it, when they're involved."
"No, I get that, trust me. I've done it - in the past, pretended to be something more when I had to get things done. I just….wish you had told me. Instead of taking me into this situation blind."
"Oh, well-"
"You did it with that witch we went to visit, God, it feels like a lifetime ago when that hybrid attacked me." She could tell he was going to speak, but she shook her head, she needed to say it before she lost her nerve, "You did it again when you had your hybrid compel Jamie, so you could stop Bonnie, and then with your mother. And every time, someone gets hurt, so don't you think it might be better if I knew what I was walking into?"
There was silence then, but his gaze was still trained on her, still attentive, even though he looked like he was in deep thought.
And now she wished she could probe him for the answers the way he had earlier.
"It was mostly because I didn't think you'd want to be involved, or that you'd stop me from doing something you find abhorent.."
"Oh."
"If you want to be involved-"
"I think we're way past the point of want, I think it's about the fact that I need to be involved."
"Hmmm…."
"Look, if this is about protecting me…"
"Of course it is, in case you haven't noticed, it's been about that for a while now."
"I did notice, I just didn't know why." Her voice was slightly above a whisper, and she was suddenly aware of how hot the room was, of how close they were, and nothing, no one she had ever been with in the past could've prepared her for the sheer uncertainty of it all.
It was as if every word he said, every words she said even, was as impactful as the last. Like one wrong word could bring it all, bring them - tumbling down like a house of cards.
"You know well why." She could feel her heart beating wildly, she distantly wondered if the effect - his effect on her heart would be permanent.
"Do I?" It was like the words were tumbling out without her permission, the way they always seemed to do with him. "Because I'm confused, is it because of this bond, or because I'm the doppleganger?"
"I think we both know the answer to that question, although it is easier pretending that it's because you're the doppleganger."
She could feel her weak protests die in her throat as she felt his words sink in, almost like they were trying to make space in her heart, like they were giving her some hope she didn't even know she wanted, not until that very moment.
She swallowed roughly as she looked up at him, his eyes sharp and intense on her and just for one moment, she allowed the uncertainty to wash away. She turned herself, her legs folding beneath her as she played with his fingers, leaning into his arms. There was a surge of something in her chest, at the domesticity of the action, that she tried not to linger on for too long.
She wished in that moment, that the world would just fall away, that it could just be the two of them.
And realised that she could have it.
She moved quickly, in a burst of impulsiveness that was unlike her, head heavy on his shoulder, his hand on her back drawing her into him, and she turned her head so that her lips came in contact with the skin of his neck. She had the sudden urge to mark him, teeth gnawing into his skin, as she sucked and laved the spot with her tongue, pulling back after a few minutes only to see it heal almost immediately.
"What are you doing love?"
"I want tonight. I want one night where we don't have to think about the next attack, or the next war, where I don't have to pick a side, where I don't have to be worried about the next attempt succeeding. Maybe it's selfish of me, but I want to be selfish tonight, and I want you to be selfish as well. I want to forget everything else, so that it can just be us."
She knew he could hear every word clearly even as sure spoke into his neck, his hands running down her arms, raising gooseflesh in their wake.
She held her breath for a moment, not sure if he wanted what she did, but then he grasped the bottom of her t-shirt and pulled it over her head.
She watched his eyes turn darker, his gaze still reverent as calloused fingertips ran over the smooth expanse of her chest and her stomach, the touch feather light and still, it seemed as though every last nerve was at attention.
She allowed her own hand to card through his hair before he picked her up and then she could feel the plush, soft carpet at her back as he laid her down on the floor, a pillow already there to support her neck. Her fingers grasped the soft fabric of his Henley, pulling it up and over his head before bringing her nails down his stomach, watching in awe at the way his muscles flexed, how his skin healed almost immediately.
She ran her hands over his chest and stomach, trying to feel what she couldn't see in the fire light, trying to memorise the contour of his chest, of the tattoo on his chest until she reached his shoulders and pushed at them. It almost suprised her when he went along willingly, so that she was straddling him, knees planted on either side of his waist. She bent down to run her lips along the skin she had touched just a moment ago.
His hands were roving over the expanse of her back, unhooking her bra, before his palms came to grasp her breasts, his hand right over her heart, as though marking her. She licked her dry lips as she bent down, their chests flush with each other, and she wanted to mould herself into him, their lips entangled in a fiery embrace as their tongues danced leisurely. Unlike every other time, there was no rush, no need to chase their release, no need for rushed hands, this time was about leisure, about being in the moment with him.
She pulled back when she was breathless, and he rolled them over slowly, one hand cradling the base of her skull as he did so. He removed her jeans easily, her own hands fumbling with his. When he had rid her off her panties, she could feel the cool air between her legs, as his hands slotted themselves over her sex, his fingers playing deftly with her.
She felt cheeks heat in embarrassment as she felt the slick pool in her slit, the way he used it to enter her making her gasp.
She felt him against her thigh, desire growing as she watched the reflection of the fire in his eyes. She grasped him in her hand, her breathes coming in pants as she lined him against herself.
When he sinked into her, a slow, delicious stretch, she couldn't look away from him. His every touch sparked a new fire within her, her body attuned to him in ways it never had been before.
It was as if words didn't need to be spoken between them, the tether between them strong enough to tell her just how he felt. It was like everything else had ceased to matter, like this moment, when she could see the blue of his eyes, when she felt the two of them becoming one, was all that mattered.
Then she had a sudden urge, she'd only ever seen him like that a few times, and never in a good situation. Her hands went up to his neck, pulling him down so she could kiss him again, her lips slotted against his before she licked at them, her tongue invading his mouth, running over his teeth, the ones she knew housed those deadly fangs. She pulled back slightly, her nose touching his as their breath seemed to become one.
"Klaus…" He hummed against her skin, his thrusts still hard as he snapped his hips along hers, "bite me." She felt him still inside her, questioning eyes meeting her own and she nodded.
He thumbed at the existing scar on her neck, her entire being feeling overstimulated as she wrapped her legs around his hips, silently urging him to move. He did then, although his eyes didn't leave hers until he had lowered his head in the crook of her neck. She could feel his cool breath over her heated skin, sweat rolling down her skin before she felt his lips at that mark, the one that held such significance for them she couldn't possibly put it in words.
First she felt his blunt teeth at her neck, scraping over the skin lightly, his tongue laving over the skin, and then, she could feel the sharp edges of his fangs at her skin, not tearing in yet, just there hovering over her neck.
She could feel her hips thrusting up to meet his when he slowly, almost too slowly, breached her skin, the fangs sinking into her artery as she cried out, tears prinking at her eyes in a delicious mix of pain and pleasure, making her reach a high she had never thought possible, the coil in her belly snapping as her walls spasmed around his cock, while he drank from her neck.
It seemed as if it lasted forever, the ecstacy, the pain and the pleasure of it all, her skin overheated as she rode a wave of pleasure unlike ever before, losing all sense of her surroundings until she came down from it.
A few moments later, she felt him freeze, the erratic movements of his hips ceasing as he emptied himself inside her, painting her walls as they clenched around him.
Then, just as slowly as he had bitten her, he pulled his mouth away from her neck, and her hand came upto where he had bitten her. Before she could even catch her breath, he pulled her up so her back was reasting against his chest and held his bloodied wrist in front of her mouth.
Before she could even think anything, she had latched onto it, drinking from it slowly, the coppery taste of blood hitting the back of her throat and she swallowed, the taste of almost pleasurable to her, even though it shouldn't be. She thought she heard him groan, holding onto his arm for longer than she should have before pulling back.
He manouvered them again so that they were lying down again, and she curled into his side, feeling spent. Out of nowhere, or so it seemed, he was covering her with a blanket, rubbing her arms.
"I'm tired." She said softly, and could feel his questioning gaze on hers. "Of the fighting."
"Let's leave then." She frowned at his words, unsure how he even had the energy to speak.
"And go where?"
"Somewhere far away. Away from my siblings, your friends, I'll even make sure you never have to see the hybrids if you don't want to."
"I…."
"We could go anywhere you wanted. Paris, Venice, Athens….wherever."
She wondered what that would be like, maybe they could live in some villa he had in the south of France, she'd spend her days reading, watching as he painted something by the window. They would sneak glances at each other, the air between them light. They could spend evenings eating the fancy meals she knew he liked, sharing glasses of wine before returning to their bedroom, spending nights tangled in each other, until they fell asleep in the early hours of the morning.
The thought was so vivid that it was painful, because no matter what he said, and what she thought, they could never have it. Their lives would always just be one war after the other, sometimes they would be on the same side, others on opposing sides.
"I would love it. Somewhere in the countryside, I can imagine it, just you and I." He was looking at her imploringly, as if he was just waiting for her to agree.
"It's quite the fantasy, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it is." He didn't know how much she willed for it to be true.
Maybe she couldn't have that, ever, maybe neither of them deserved it for how they were hurting everyone, but they could have this moment, she thought as she leaned into his touch, burrowing her head in the crook of his neck, something inside her wanting to be surrounded by him.
This need she had scared her just as much, the need had for him. But as she felt him tracing circles in her lower back, she knew she wasn't alone in her feelings.
It had been more difficult than she had expected, she thought the next day, to extract herself from his arms. It was so odd, she thought absentmindedly as she piled things into her bag, that of all the people to have a supernatural bond with, it would be Klaus.
She shook her head, stuffing more things in her bag, before leaving for the Boarding House. Jenna was already there with Jeremy.
Last night, they had realised that Ric's alter ego had stashed the last white oak somewhere, and now, after everything they had done to suppress it, they were waiting for him to make an appearance. She sighed as she looked at the puppy giving her a sad look, and sat down next to him.
"I know you wanna come too, and that you probably miss Ric, but I don't think Damon or Stefan will be happy to see you." She said with a sigh.
When she got to the Boarding House, she saw Stefan and Damon talking to talk to Jeremy in hushed voices and she wondered what that was about.
"Hey." Jenna and Alaric seemed to be in a deep discussion, and her heart hurt for them. They should've had a different life, in another world, they might've even be married by now. But it wasn't another world, and there was nothing she could do about it. "Got some supplies."
"The two of you shouldn't be here, I'm dangerous." Alaric said and Elena almost let out a loud sigh.
"Half the people in this town are dangerous. Besides, Damon and Stefan are upstairs. What are you two talking about?"
"Nothing really." Jenna said, "just thinking of what we'll do if we can't find the white oak. What will Klaus do? He'll kill Ric, won't he?"
"No. Because then he would never find out where the stake is then." She hoped, at least. "Look, I got some boring books, some food, and I'm gonna leave you two alone to talk." She closed the cellar door behind her and walked upstairs to find Damon and Jeremy in conversation, while Stefan passed her by on his way to Alaric.
"What are you two talking about?" Both Damon and Jeremy looked at her almost distrustfully.
"Just thinking of how to handle the Jackal and Hyde situation." Damon said, and something about the way he was saying it made her sure he was hiding something from her.
"That's not it though."
"It's nothing else Lena." Jeremy said as though he was trying to pacify her. She looked between the two of them and sighed, shoulders slumping.
"You're hiding things from me now. Everyone is." She tried not to let the hurt seep into his voice.
"Lena-" Jeremy started but Damon cut him off.
"Look, you are no longer on board with the whole kill the Originals plan, so we can't really include you in the planning."
There was nothing she could say to that, not without lying, but her loyalties were not as easy as they were before. She just didn't want anyone to die, which was naïve, given that she lived in Mystic Falls.
"I just don't want you to kill them if it means you all die."
"Yup, we figured you'd be adamant on that, so we're tracing back our bloodline, see which original made our sireline, and then if it's not Klaus…." Damon mimicked the action on staking him in the heart and Elena barely suppressed her shudder. "Do you have any problem with our plan now?" He asked deliberately and she shook her head, having no other option.
"No, I don't think so. So, Katherine turned you, and Rose turned Katherine. So, who turned Rose?" She asked walking closer to the two of them.
"That's why I'm talking to your little brother. Cause he can talk to ghosts. The vampire who turned Rose was Mary." Damon said as Jeremy eyed the vampire in irritation and Elena looked between the two of them.
"And who turned Mary?" She asked and Damon looked at a loss.
"That's where the trail ends. We don't know who turned Mary or where she is. Rose is trying to see if she can find anything." Damon told her before sitting down next to Jeremy. "So, do you still have that deal with Klaus?"
"What? I think I do, why?"
"What can I say? Might be best to keep him distracted today, Ric's here, Tyler's back in town, so Caroline was badgering about it."
"You want me to keep Klaus distracted?" She asked suspiciously.
"Well, yeah, we'd use Caroline, but she's with Tyler, you know maybe you could give him a donation to the cause."
"Damon-"
"Or I don't know, whatever it is you used to do when you struck the deal. Don't want him to come collecting the stakes." Elena shook her head.
"I think Caroline needed some helping setting up the decade dance." She said picking up her bag, "I'll come later to see how Ric is doing."
"So, what, you're not distracting Klaus?"
"No."
Rebekah was having a surprisingly good day. She had convinced the committee to do a 20's dance instead of the 70's and Matt had dropped her off. So when she entered her house to see her mother, her insides seemed to freeze.
"Mother," then suddenly, she recalled what the woman had almost done to all of them, and pushed her against a wall, hand tightening around her neck. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't kill you right now."
"Because I'm dying." She was almost sure she misheard her, it didn't make any sense after all. But then she had always been close to her mother, in the way only daughters could be, so perhaps asking a few questions wouldn't be too much of a bad idea.
"How are you dying? I thought Ayana preserved your body with a spell." Rebekah wasn't sure that she could trust her mother, well, these days, she wasn't sure she could trust anyone.
"She did. I'm drawing my power from the Bennett witch line. When Abby died, the connection was severed. So my body has weakened."
She could feel a storm raging inside her, how dare she, after everything she had done, to come to Rebekah for help.
"And if you've come to spend your last moments with your loving daughter…..prepare to be disappointed. You should have spent less time plotting my death."
"Is that what you think I was doing on the other side? I've been looking over you for a thousand years of joy and heartbreak. Your fights with Klaus. The nights you cried yourself to sleep calling my name. Not a day has gone by when I wasn't right there with you."
The words stirred at her heartstrings, but this was their mother, the woman could not be trusted.
"And yet you still tried to kill me."
"Because it shouldn't have been a thousand years Rebekah. No one should live that long."
"I haven't lived at all." She said, voice low, and let her mother go.
"I'm sorry Rebekah. I'm so, so sorry." Suddenly, her mother gripped her hands, an action that reminded her of a time when she was a child seeking comfort in her mothers arms.
And then a searing pain, before everything went dark.
